“Why not?” he asked.
“I used to work there. I even know the lawyer to whom it’s addressed.”
“That’s where you worked as a financial analyst?”
“Yes.”
“So? What’s the problem.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“Because you were once a financial analyst and now you’re a humble receptionist?” He seemed amused and even pleased at her distress.
She went down on her knees. “Please, Sir, don’t send me there.”
He looked at her hard and said, “All right. I’ll use a courier service. But you’ll have to pay for this.”
“I know, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
She awaited the next Friday’s caning with more than the usual anticipation, certain it would be the occasion for exacting the p*****t he spoke of, p*****t for her act of disobedience, the first since she began working for him. She was sitting at her desk at 5:
